


Reunion

by dbshawn



Series: Entertwined [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Comfort, Discussion of Abortion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbshawn/pseuds/dbshawn
Summary: Eames decides to help Ariadne through a rough moment when Arthur decides to reconnect.
Relationships: Ariadne & Eames (Inception), Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: Entertwined [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574488
Kudos: 12
Collections: Inceptiversary Trope & Kink Bingo 2019





	1. I've Decided

It’s two years after Inception and the original team has all gone their separate ways. Arthur still works as a point man, although he’s taking on more consulting work these days. Eames, while still the best forger in the business is a bit more selective with his projects. He’s also taking topside con jobs, because he likes to keep things spicy and dangerous. Ariadne, on the other hand, initially dropped right back into classwork, finishing up her Engineering degree and moving on to get her Masters in Architecture. She takes a few dreamshare jobs here and there during her breaks, to stay fresh, in hopes that Arthur and Eames bring her on in a more “permanent” capacity. Everyone wonders after Dom Cobb, of course. The (by now) fabled Master Architect who literally got lost in a world of his own making. As far as anyone can tell, Dom is still retired, living out in LA with his two children, writing fiction and advising on Hollywood pics when he has time.

They’ve all found their groove and for the most part it works.

* * *

The last job Ari, Eames and Arthur worked together was six months ago in Barcelona. Eames and Ariadne (minus Arthur) took a small job in Prague four months later and in an unexpected turn of events they grow closer after Eames gleans Ariadne’s precarious *situation*. Not anything either of them planned. But something quite lovely and precious in its own right.

After a rocky time keeping any food down and suffering from severe mood swings, Ari realized she was carrying for two. _Excuse me?_ After soothing his loneliness inside the body of one of her best friends, Ari’s boyfriend Nicholas, realized she wasn’t afraid to be single again. _See ya!_

So for a week, Ari struggled to make a decision.

While she no longer attended mass she still fell prey to Catholic guilt involving any “misstep” in her life. She worried, not just about the emotional aspects of the whole affair, but the physical ones. She was still young, in her mid-twenties _(so much life to live right?)_. But…what if she finally found the love of her life and they rejected her because she had an abortion? Or what if she took so much time living that when she finally craved a baby or two, her body dismissed her desire? What would she do then?

It was ridiculous to try and pin future circumstances on a present reality. The rational part of her brain knew this wholeheartedly. But her more nebulous side, _the one that leapt into dreamshare without reservation,_ couldn’t help but explore all of the various scenarios for her _future, wiser_ self.

In the end, after much deliberation, she decided an abortion was what was best for _right now, today_ Ariadne.

Fortunately for her, no one in her family, her group of friends and classmates or even dreamshare knew about this dilemma. Except Eames. Ever the gentleman and unexpected friend, he kept close tabs on her via text and calls while she sorted herself out.

* * *

“Eames…I think I’ve decided.”

Ari called him on a Thursday night, having no idea where he was or what the time difference was between them. Turns out, she was a healthy five hours ahead of him and he was fast asleep. But he picked up the phone answering in a deep gruff voice and what she imagined was wicked bedhead in his hotel room.

“Aye. Ughh. Hello darling. Was having a dirty dream there.

He chuckled at himself, probably trying to get back to full awareness, she imagined.

She stayed silent for a moment, wondering if he understood what she meant.

When she hears his deep intake of breath on the other end of the phone, she realizes he did.

“So, what’s it gonna be for you?” he asks softly.

Ari’s staring out of her bedroom window in Paris, watching the flicker of street lights and a sanitation truck scrubbing the sidewalk clean before sunrise. She bites a hang nail from her forefinger and chews on it, before swallowing down.

“Ari? You still there?”

It’s a strange thing, this. Confiding her darkest secret (so far) to a coworker who before now had only been a dream crush… (That position was initially taken up by Arthur until she realized that Arthur only like to kiss her once they were under. Clit tease…)

“I’m gonna get rid of it.”

She rushes the words and then lets out a huge ragged breath. Feeling tears forming in her eyes as her hands begin to shake.

“Are you sure pet? You still have a couple more weeks to …”

“Yep. I’m sure. I made an appointment this afternoon.”

She’s nodding her head rapidly as if Eames is there in front of her.

Her throat gets thick and it’s hard for her to swallow.

“Are you gonna tell Nicholas?”

She knows there are no judgments behind his words, only support. But it’s agitating her to continue dragging it out.

“No need. This is what I want.” _And fuck him for sleeping with my best friend! He doesn’t need to know.!_

Eames is out of bed and moving around now. She can tell by all of the jostling on the other end of the phone.

“So, when was that appointment again?”

Ari licks her lips. _God, please forgive me. Don’t let Mama or Nan ever find this out. It’ll kill me, if they do._

“I made it for this coming Tuesday. At, ummm, 1 in the afternoon, I think.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, except for the crinkly rustling of paper. He’s thumbing through his appointment book.

“Ahhhh anyway you can change that darling? To later next week?”

“What for?”

Ari already knows why he’s asking, but she wants, no needs to hear the words. Needs to hear him say them, so she can center herself for just a moment.

“Well I don’t finish up here til the weekend, love. And I want to stay with you for a few days while you recoup.”

Now the tears really are starting to fall from her face.

“Eames, you don’t have to do this…”

“Come on. I’m not gonna let you go through this alone.”

She sniffles, rubbing the wet away from her face. There’s something soothing about the timbre of his voice.

“Unless you don’t want me to be there. And if that’s the…”

“No! No, I want, it’d be nice to have someone with me.” She sniffs and clears her throat.

“I’ll call tomorrow then. And change it. To next Thursday?”

“That would be perfect pet. I’ll be done with work, free and clear. Then I’m all yours.”

“Where will you stay?”

“I can get a suite at the San Régis and you can stay with me there. Or if you’d rather be at home, I can crash at your place.”

She really doesn’t know which arrangement is best.

“I…”

“Look. Don’t worry about that now. Call me tomorrow when you’ve changed the appointment and we’ll take it from there. Okay?”

“Alright. And Eames?”

“Yes love?”

“Thank you.”

“S’no problem Ari.”

“No really, thank you for doing this.”

“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be love. Talk to you soon.”

“G’night.”

Ari hangs up the phone and lets out a huge gust of air from her chest. _It’s gonna be okay. It has to be._

* * *

The next night Ari tosses and turns in her bed. Outside of a little morning sickness (that lasts well into the afternoon), she really has no other symptoms to remind her of her condition. She’s not showing and she’s actually been sleeping well up until now. But after talking with Eames and changing her appointment, she feels restless.

Eames asked about Nicholas and she rightfully wanted to wretch. Her hot, brooding boyfriend with the scar on his left cheek and the ass that wouldn’t quit? The one who was slightly older than her classmates because he’d spent his late teen years grifting tourists and doing drugs with his rowdy friends? Yep.

The one whose portfolio allowed him to win a scholarship to one of the best schools in Paris? Who cleaned up his act and became a diligent, focused student? Whose worst dietary choices these days were too many cups of coffee and menthol cigarettes? Damn straight. That one.

He’d swept her off her feet. A few weeks of hanging out turned into a quickly formed relationship that saw him moving into her one-bedroom flat in no time. In between classes, there were long lunches and rounds of fucking that a trainer would have definitely counted as fat burning cardio.

Ari was flush with fever for him.. Skin glowing, eyes shining, heart entrenched. She was head over heels, quickly forgetting up from down and day from night. All she knew was Nicholas; his mouth, the force of his dick and the way he left her feeling she could walk on air.

Life and school were fine until she took a couple of dreamshare jobs and came home to realize that Nicholas’ longer study hours strangely coincided with her best friend Lisette being too busy for lunch or study sessions or after-class shopping.

Ari got up out of bed, used the toilet and then went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of seltzer water. Nick used to joke that it made her gassy, but these days helped calm her queasy stomach. She stared at the clock on the wall. It was only 12:30 am. Late, but not terribly so for a University student.

She walked back to the bedroom with her glass, picked up her phone and dialed. If he was sleeping, too damn bad.

It rang four times before he picked up. He knew damn well who it was. He just didn’t want to deal.

“Yeah…,” he sounded very much awake, just annoyed.

“Hey. It’s me.” Ari starts biting her fingernails. She doesn’t know why – scratch that, she knows why she called. She just doesn’t know if she has the courage to tell him.

“So what do you need?”

“Hello to you too Nicholas. I was just thinking…”

“Ari, it’s late and I don’t wanna fight with you.” He sounds annoyed. Probably because he’s in between rounds with Lisette.

“Some of your clothes are still in the closet and you left some of your books in the main room.”

“Is that it? Is this really why you called me this late? We’re over Ari. I mean…”

She interrupts before he can go further and she gets any angrier.

“Just pick a day so you can come get your things Nick. I’ll have them packed up and waiting for you, alright? Bye.”

She hangs up before he even finishes whatever it was he was saying.

Of course he thinks she wants him back. Nothing could be further from the truth.

* * *

So as it goes, Eames does indeed finish up his current job that Saturday. He’s been in Chicago for three weeks now, focused on a conservative fundraising gathering. His team, hired by a very desperate group of scientists, has been incepting what they hope to be solid evidence of climate change into a small cadre of DC politicians; individuals who not only head the Senate and the House but who liaison with some of the most influential PACs currently involved in creating government policy.

Eames forged a certain Southern Republican with a penchant for leaning heavily into large swaths of cash in exchange for selling out the American public. A small, misguided fellow who had alleged ties to hostile foreign governments. It was a piece of nasty business for him to work through. But their team got through the job successfully, even if it happened to wipe him out emotionally.

He let himself crash at his hotel for three days, sleeping as much as he needed, watching cheesy movies, exercising sporadically and running outside to get food or take brisk walks and enjoy the salty air coming off the lake.

Today is Tuesday, and he’s stretched out on the bed, laptop on his thighs, putting out feelers for future work and eyeing prices for flights into Paris. Direct flights are a fortune at this late date, but he’s found a few that aren’t so expensive if he transfers in New York and then makes the journey from there. Money isn’t such a big issue. But it’s nice to save as much as possible. One day he’ll decide to come topside for good. (Who knows when that’ll be, yeah?)

In the middle of bouncing between Kayak and Expedia, he hears the buzz of his cellphone. One short zip lets him know it’s a text. He slides over to pick it up and is surprised. Arthur.

_Where in the world are you Mister Eames?_

He runs the pad of his thumb over the screen and smiles.

It’s been almost six months since he’s seen Arthur. The last time they were together, they’d had a nasty argument because Arthur planned on taking as many West Coast jobs as possible so he could be closer to Dom and the kids. Arthur was worried about Dom’s need for Mal. Eames was angry that because he’d begun to have feelings for Arthur. He never said this outright, mind you. He thought his actions made things clear. But apparently not.

_In Chicago now. Then Paris for a few days. You?_

He imagines the way Arthur’s dimple must have creased as he was typing this very message. Maybe a tuft of his hair loose and curly around his ear. Allowing himself to smile for a change. Hmmmmm.

_Been doing initial prep for a job I have in London soon._

Eames isn’t one to get ahead of himself. Something about Arthur reaching out first, after his initial failed bouts of flirting and then their extremely casual rounds of…He wouldn’t call it a relationship. Friends with benefits maybe? But this text, even the casual nature of it, causes a flutter in his chest. What’s going on here?

_What’s in Paris?_

Cheeky, sly, adorable Arthur. Taking the long way ‘round to suss out his schedule, huh? Eames wasn’t expecting more from the pointman. Still, it was nice to be considered.

_I’ll be there with a friend for a few days._

_What for?_

_Helping them with some personal things. Tricky life stuff. Should I make room for you in the schedule?_

There’s a few minutes pause. And Eames starts to get nervous.

_We still haven’t solidified a start date._

_Ah well then. Drop me a line if you have a free day. It would be good to catch up._

Eames doesn’t feel like playing a game. The message (even if it’s in between the lines) is very clear. If Arthur’s up for it, fine. If not, he’ll worry with Ari and work and take care of the other on his own.

_Will do Mr. Eames. ttyl_


	2. Under Wramps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Ari's appointment, but she learns more about Eames than she ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG you guys, I've been sitting on 23 pages of story that felt too overwhelming to edit. But you know what? This story needs to keep moving,. So here we are. I'm grateful for you continuing to read. And I promise we'll get an appearance from Arthur the next go round.

On Thursday, Eames gets up at four a.m. to go for a run in a park close to the hotel. One of those carefully planned, manicured splotches of greenery interspersed between apartments and offices, buses and subway stops. He’s running on a pebbled “path”, steadily on the move. Not exactly the proper place for it, but he’s not exactly a proper man. It all works out well though. His earbuds sit firmly in place, pumping out music, so he’s likely to flip a snooty Parisian the bird if they turn their noses down at him.

When he gets back, he takes a nice long shower, moisturizes his skin and trims his beard to a respectable length. Then he orders fruit, cereal, pastries, tea and coffee for himself and Ari. Not sure what she’ll like, but enough of a choice for her to nosh on something before they go. She’s not supposed to eat six hours before her procedure, so he’s well before the deadline.

Ari comes out quietly, grabs an apple and coffee and goes back to her room. Eames eats alone at the dining table, gnoshing on a creamy cheese Danish, in between hefty slurps of tea _with cream, no sugar, thank you_.

* * *

Ari made her appointment a nice stretch away from campus. Less chance of running into anyone she knows. They arrive half an hour early, thanks to Eames’ ordering an Uber ahead of an unforeseen traffic jam. Somehow being early helps keep Ari calm; not that she’s a stickler for time in any other area of her life.

The clinic sits in the basement of an office building, tucked beneath a dentist’s office and a dermatology office. Being an architecture student means Ari’s mind is already scrambling to place this building in the history of Parisian growth. There are no ornate designs and the façade is made of a lighter and cheaper concrete than the older buildings in the area. Probably designed and constructed in the late sixties early seventies, with the last renovations done sometime in the nineties.

There’s nothing special about it. A quiet waiting room, fluorescent light and white walls, peppered with slim pamphlets and brochures. Ari checks in at the front desk with the receptionist, then she and Eames sit side by side in the waiting area.

Ari scans the room, taking in all of the other potential patients. She counts nine other women there besides herself. Some seemingly relaxed and reading books, others fidgeting nervously in their chairs and then others sitting so stoically still she’d almost swear they weren’t even breathing. _It’s funny that; feeling like you’re all alone about to fall off a cliff, until you glance around and see that the cliff’s edge has a line of people behind you and you understand that some people are more desperate and frantic than you are._

When she glances over at Eames, he’s reading a book, so of course, she must investigate.

“Kevin McKinney?” she smirks, glancing at the cover.

Eames winks. “S’right darling.”

Ari chuckles, taking the book from him.

“Since when do you read freakin’ spy novels? You could probably write one of these things for Chrissake. And tell a much better story…”

She keeps her voice low, of course. No need to bring light to what it is they do. But she still can’t help rolling her eyes at this discovery.

“What? I’m not allowed a frivolous indulgence?” Eames looks at her incredulously, hand on his chest, then bursts out laughing. The attendant at the front desk and a few wired patients glare at him. Lower your fucking voice, their eyes seem to say. This isn’t cocktail hour.

“I’m not all secret dossiers and stakeouts darling. I indulge in quick escapes like everyone else.”

Ari tosses the book into his lap and whispers, “I thought that was what dreamshare is for..”

_Touche,_ Eames thinks. He can’t say he’s never used dreamshare for his own personal release. It comes with the territory eventually.

Ari goes back to scanning the room, wondering if whomever completed the “remodel” of this space had the foresight to leave the original ceiling intact. She’s almost certain there’s a delicately detailed situation sitting above the gaudy tiles hovering above their heads.

“Don’t mind me at all,” she smirks. “Reading McKinney can’t be any more embarrassing than your hot boyfriend knocking you up, then shagging your best friend ‘cause he doesn’t want to be bothered.”

A nurse with a loosely combed bun and a tiny nose piercing comes from the back holding a chart.

“Amelie Thomas?”

Ari tenses at that very first syllable and immediately grabs Eames’ hand.

“Amelie Thomas? Amelie…?”

Finally a young woman with dirty blonde hair in an oversized shirt and jeans steps forward and the nurse ushers her into the back.

Ari turns towards Eames and he can see it. In her eyes, the lines of her forehead and the flare of her nostrils.

“Eames?”

He’s sure he can feel her stomach spinning endlessly. Fear of the procedure, of everyone’s judgment, that she’ll regret this sometime in the future. It’s laid bare all over her despondent face and it makes him wince.

The nurse is back again, looking down at her clipboard and lightly scratching her scalp.

“Ariadne? Ariadne Richardson?”

Eames takes her head in his hands, then speaks in a voice deep and steady.

“Before you know it, you’ll be back here in the waiting room, wondering what stupid novel this chav will read next, eh. One-two-three. I’ll be here when you’re done. Alright?”

It’s a half-smile he gives her. Not completely convincing or comforting for either of them. But when he brings his head down to gently kiss her forehead, Ari takes a few deep breaths, looks up at him nodding in agreement and then heads to the back.

* * *

After the appointment, they head back to the hotel suite and Eames gets her situated in her room. It’s soooo very white _(who the hell isn’t constantly spilling something on these sheets?),_ but there’s plenty of large down pillows, plus all of the usual amenities. Ari slips off her shoes and slides under the covers, grimacing a bit as she positions herself against the head of the bed. The pillows almost seem to swallow her. When she leans back, Eames sees a large wrinkle in the middle of her forehead and worries for a bit.

“You alright? The pharmacy said your meds would be ready within the hour. I’ll bring ‘em back as soon as they text me.”

“Ehhh, I’m fine,” she says softly. It’s a lie she tells to smooth things over. Eames doesn’t have to be a forger to know that. She doesn’t want him to worry and she doesn’t really want to talk about it yet. But she knows he’ll listen if she changes her mind.

“Care for a cuppa or something else to drink?” He wants to soothe her in some minute way. Maybe distract her for a few minutes.

“I never…well I didn’t exactly see myself in this position. At least not now, you know?” She’s smoothing her hands against the sheets now. She looks sad and deflated, like a balloon that’s been leaking air out of its side all day. He doesn’t know what to say or do really.

“Ari, I…”

When he’s working, forging rather, he’s usually enveloped in emotions that fit with the more unsavory aspects of his life: greed, avarice, jealousy, revenge, even violence tinged with a touch of anarchy. Of course he knows regret and melancholy, the generality of loss. But he imagines that what Ari is feeling is an amalgam of things he may never experience. At least not all at the same time. He doesn’t want to be a brute and presume to have any idea of what she’s going through. At the same time, he also doesn’t want to be an arse and make her feel like she can pop a magic pill and all will be well.

“I mean it’s not like I ever thought Nicholas was the ONE. But he made me laugh and he definitely made me come. I just thought that we’d have some fun… for a while.”

She grins and he smiles at her, running a finger against the back of her hand.

“I mean, what about you? Anyone special that future Eames is sure to regret?”

His stomach turns over just enough to make him swallow and quell the discomfort. He remembers the way he’d reached for Arthur the last time they were together. Post-coital, exhausted, flat on their backs and catching their breath. They jerked off in the shower, then managed to get clean and find a spirited second wind on the bed.

Eames had placed a tentative hand beneath one of Arthur’s ribs, but instead of accepting the touch, Arthur bolted up, stretching his lithe limbs, announcing that he really should get to his hotel room and finish up research for his next job. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed himself. A few swift motions found him sliding his clothes and shoes back on, then he was quickly saying good night and darting out of the door before Eames could land a decent response. Eames was sure he did have more research to do. He was also sure it could have waited though.

“Nahhhhh. I’m not one for getting bogged down these days. I take my bets and have my fun and move on to the next adventure.” He winks at her mostly because she’s none the wiser or maybe to keep any residual feelings at bay. Yet, even when he’s with someone else, there Arthur is creeping into his thoughts..

“Maybe that’s the way to go”, she adds. “No strings, no attachments, nothing to regret when you’re done.”

Eames goes and fixes her that nice cuppa he’d promised and lets her settle in. Then they sit and talk for a bit longer.

“Ari?”

“Yes” Only part of her face is visible now, what with her lying down swathed in down pillows and comforter.

“I’ll be in and out. I’ll have my phone with me, so just text me or call if you need anything, okay?”

“Alright.”

Her eyelids are heavy and she seems so serene, but he notices the wan color of her skin. Long, dark rest gently on her upper cheek almost reminding him of a certain someone else he’s watched fall asleep. Eames pulls the comforter up over her a bit and leaves the room.

That first day is pretty uneventful. Ari moves in and out of sleep, while Eames watches trashy TV and searches the dreamshare message boards for leads on potential jobs. He doesn’t need anything right away, mind you, but he likes to stay abreast of what people are working on out in the field.

He runs out a few times to make groceries, get coffee at a local café and get a few tourist brochures. If she’s up for it, maybe they can visit a museum or some such. If not, he’ll take in a few sights before he’s off to the next destination.

* * *

The next day is quiet as well. He orders room service and Ari wakes up in time to share in a hearty breakfast. The scrambled eggs are fluffy and sprinkled with scallions, just like he likes. Ari smears plenty of butter and jam on her toast, but takes little bird bites, getting crumbs around her mouth.

“Lord, you Americans are sloppy. Am I the only one around here posh enough to wipe their mouth when they eat?”

She laughs, grandly using the thick linen napkin to wipe her mouth, then flips Eames the bird.

“Just an observation, nothing more,” he teases.

Of course, Eames included Arthur in that sentiment. He chuckles to himself, then returns to pouring Ari and himself large cups of coffee.

* * *

Later on, Ari agrees to join Eames in the spacious living room after she begs him to rent Bladerunner 2049 from the TV menu. Talk about a work-adjacent film. Ari loves sci-fi well enough and Eames can use the noise as a distraction.

There’s a few available jobs in Laos, Japan and Bulgaria, but he’s eyeing a rare topside find in Poland, that’s estimated to last the next three months. Legit jobs don’t come down the pipeline often and this would give him the chance to stay in Europe a bit longer. _Just in case there’s a certain someone who’ll be in Europe around the same time.._

He’s lost enough in thought that takes him a minute to realize Ari is talking to him, Bladerunner be damned.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me Eames. I can’t tell you how many times I burst into tears these last couple of weeks.”

Eames pulls his eyes away from his laptop and turns to face her.

“’S’no way I’d let you deal with this alone Ari. I know we’ve only worked a few jobs together, but I consider you a friend. I’m happy to be here for you love.”

“I think I’d go crazy if I went through this all alone…”

“But you’re not darling. I’ll stay as long as you want.”

“And you won’t tell anyone else in dreamshare?” She interrupts.

“Not even Yusuf or Arthur, right?”

There’s a slight heat rising in his cheeks at the mention of that name. _Does she know something? Suspect anything? He can’t betray this secret. Not yet anyways._

“Of course not! If anyone knows how to keep something underwraps in dreamshare it’s a forger. All of this is as good as locked in a vault.”

He brings on her hands to his mouth and kisses it succinctly. It’s sweet and platonic, but his lips are soft and when Ari feels their warmth, she can’t keep herself from blushing.

She kisses him quickly on his cheek. Too reticent to ever admit the crush she’s been harboring for over a year now. Is it wrong to swoon over one man when you’ve just aborted another man’s baby? Inquiring minds won’t even try to answer that one. Too many details coupled with hormones and no soft spoken mediators to help Ariadne duke this one out with her invisible yet judgmental studio audience. Tune in next week kids for an episode of Are You Fucking Kidding Me Right Now?

She’s deep inside her own mosh pit of thoughts when she turns her head to glance at his laptop screen. Whatever Eames was doing has timed out and she catches a glimpse of his screensaver. A pic that leaves her in awe.

There staring back at her in high pixilation is a picture of a teenaged Eames with three other young kids playing in a pool. They appear to be in a house somewhere in Greece or some other idyllic locale with turquoise water. At the other end of the pool is a sleek, gorgeous woman She’s peeking at the person behind the camera slyly, arms outstretched against the edge of the pool, ready to receive every ounce of vitamin D the sun can muster.

“Eames,” Ari questions, lifting herself away from him a bit.

“Is that a picture of you in the same pool with Siobahn O’Neill? You’ve never mentioned you even knew her let alone got to hang out…”

He sits up straight now, against the back of the sofa, fumbling with his hands in his lap, his head bowed just a bit.

“Eames…?”

Ari’s looking at him curiously now. There’s so much they purposely don’t know about each other, but this is a genuine surprise for her. Eames clears his throat, rubbing his hand against his beard.

“Yeah, I do know her.”

He looks at her sheepishly now, as if she caught him in the midst of something unsavory. He rubs at his beard, then looks back at her.

“She’s me mum.”

Ari’s mood spikes upward and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear she just hit the lotto.

“Eames! Are you freaking kidding me? She’s like, one of the hottest women in the world!”

She’s practically yelling now, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide with excitement.

Siobahn O'Neill worked in the time when there still were supermodels. Not the grossly indulgent and overbearing kind floating on Instagram today. Fashion Week, exclusive parties, serving as a muse to some fickle designer who used a flash of shoulder or an expanse of leg to highlight his latest daring creation.

In her time, Siobahn graced the cover of Vogue, Vanity Fair, Cosmo, all of the high end fashion magazines that you could name. She had large dark eyes, slanted cheeks and a head of thick wavy hair that so many women envied. Ari’s mom included.

Eames feels flabbergasted and a little taken aback. He gets that this is unusual for anyone else to hear. But sweet lord, she’s just a person and he’s never quite taken hold to American’s fascination with the rich and famous. Other than the fact that they ultimately want to be rich and famous and live what they think is the life.

“Ari, calm down love. She’s famous and she’s gorgeous but I don’t look at her that way.”

Ari’s up on her feet now moving around until she plops down in a chair by the sofa and looks at him intently, as if she expects him to spill out a lifetime worth of story.

“I mean, if she’s your mother, you must have plenty of stories. In fact, how in the world did you even end up in…?”

He reaches for her forearm to settle her and she realizes she’s acted too much like a teenaged girl.

“First of all, she doesn’t know what we…how I make my way in the world. Secondly, she had me very, very young, so my grandmother raised me the first ten years of my life. It’s not like my life was a whirlwind.”

Eames sees her regret in the way her body slumps a bit at this information. He wonders if he was too harsh.

“Sorry Eames. I had…really, I wouldn’t have acted all…”

“I know love. I know.”

There’s many more questions she’d like to ask, but she sees the regret in his eyes so she decides to leave it alone. Almost.

“Do you guys at least stay in touch these days?”

He’s back to rubbing his beard, his eyes focused upwards. She can tell he’s sifting through memories now, letting the reel run through his mind, trying not to get stumped on any one particular image.

“We talk often enough. Not like we’re super close or anything. But I promised Nan I’d try to make it work for the sake of the family.”

Now it’s Ari’s turn to comfort him. She scooches back over, kissing him sweetly on the cheek.

“You know what this means now yeah?”

His raised eyebrows and slightly curled lip, make her lean forward with anticipation.

“Now I know one of your secrets.”

“It’s something hardly anyone else in the world knows. I’ll need you to keep it that way.” In their line of work, he can’t risk exposing any of his family to their clients or associates. He’s spent too long masking so much of his life to prove to be a danger to them now.

She nods speedily. This is like their thing now. A pact. She’s still wondering how he manages to sit on information like this. Ari feels like a school girl and it’s vapid as all get out. But it makes her happy somehow; makes her see Eames in a brand new light. You really can’t judge a book by its’ cover.

She awkwardly moves to the edge of the chair, stretching her arms.

“’Course Eames. You’ve got it.”


End file.
